Eyes Wide Shut
by Shippy1
Summary: After a good bout of rum, Jack remembers many things. And her memory calls him. JackElizabeth
1. Default Chapter

**Authors note:** This is the first in a series of short drabbles which will (hopefully) shape up into a short story.  Constructive criticism is always welcome – I have a thick hide, so I'm open to all comments.  This is just me practicing a new style of writing.  Hope you enjoy, hope you review.

///

 After a good bout of rum, Jack ponders many things.  Remembers moments stolen while time stood still, in the blissful haze of oblivion.  Thinks of bright white sand dotted with shells, and the dancing of feet around a fire.

  
Thinks of her.

Not for long, of course.  Captain Jack Sparrow doesn't pine like a love-struck boy with his first sweetheart.  It's not in him to do so.  Doesn't even think of her most days, with the Pearl and his beloved sea as distraction.  

But sometimes, when the waves are high and the sea restless, she flits through his mind.  Stubborn chin set and eyes flashing, she screams at him, her hair flying around her in a trail of molten gold.  

Jack wishes he knew what she was blabbering about.  

///


	2. Drabble 2

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One day, she doesn't scream.  Stands, her shoulders bent, with the folds of her white dress perfectly coiled, undisturbed by the vicious wind around her.  Looks straight at him, but her eyes are strangely unfocused, the light of the sea gone from their depths.  

Then she turns, and walks away.

He wants to run after her.  Wants to hoist her over his shoulder and haul her off with him, bring back the old sparkle in her eyes and crimson in her cheeks.  But he knows better.  Elizabeth is an independent lass, wild, and destined to be free, not bow to constraint.  Her heart is one of a pirate.

He wouldn't have her any other way.

///


	3. Drabble 3

**Authors note:** No reviews for last chapter *sniff* but hopefully you'll like this one better.  And yes, the R parts will be coming up later.  

//

The sea is a mistress of illusion.  Years as a pirate taught him to never accept things at face value, and that the hidden layers beneath what you see are more important than all the shining gloss your eye contents itself with.  

When a man looked at Jack Sparrow, he saw life.  Freedom streaming from every pore into a glittery facade, woven together with dreams.  

But Gibbs was no man.  He was a friend, and with Jack, that made all the difference.  So sometimes, when the Captain shouted out orders, he could almost hear loss echoing in his strong voice. 

 The Captain stared out into the sea for hours on end at night, just like he'd always done.  He wobbled and drank and swore and screamed _(inhuman wails broken with shadowy song)_ but something was missing.

And Gibbs knew what it was.  

He sighed _(gonna be the death of me) _and twisted the wheel in the direction of Port Royal.  

//


	4. Drabble 4

**Authors note:** Yay, reviews!  I'm so glad that you liked this last chapter.  In this one, the tone is a little different, and there's more dialogue.  Please let me know if you like this kind of writing better than what I've been using before!  Went for a little speedy and hopefully funny at times, also longer than usual.  Looking forward to hearing your opinions, and hope you all enjoy.  

//

He'd always loved seeing the sea first thing in the morning.  Remembers even now, as a boy, crossing the dock with his eyes closed, guessing what color the waves would be today.  Sometimes a dark, murky green, others a sparkling blue that was supposed to make you blind if you stared at it too long.  

Crossing over to the wheel, he stared defiantly at the water, enjoying the shine of the sun on the rippling waves.  Long streaks of white gold, visible one minute, gone the next, twirling and dancing merrily to the ever present song of the sea.  Further out into the distance, where they didn't reach, the blurry outlines of buildings were visible, awkwardly moving up and down as the Pearl came closer, riding the currents.

It was an altogether pretty picture, perfect really, except that Jack had the distinct feeling that they were supposed to have reached open sea by now.

            "Mr. Gibbs?" he hollowed.

            "Aye, captain!"

            "It appears," he shouted, "that we changed direction during the night.  Those things are not supposed to be there!" 

After pointing at said disagreeable things, he settled back to wait for a reply.

            "Aye, so they're not.  Well.  If you'll excuse me, cap'n –"

            "Those buildings shouldn't be here, Mr. Gibbs, yet they are.  We should be in open sea with the bloody sharks, yet we're not.  Now I want an explanation.  Savvy?"

There was a certain look that practically screamed guilty, and Gibbs was sporting it right then.  Already red face swelling to an almost melon like capacity, and eyes that continuously wandered down to the floor boards, which Jack knew for a fact were spotless.  

            "I thinks, Jack.  That perhaps a little…land visit might do us some good, ey?  It would, I tells myself.  And what land's nearest us?  Port Royal.  Less 'n a day away."

            "So, you steer the wheel while old Jack's asleep, and take us to this near land so we can…better enjoy…the –"

            "Soil underneath yer boots!"

            "Of course!  That's what you were thinking, is it, Mr. Gibbs?"

            "Yes sir!  I mean, no sir.  Not at all."

            "Well, glad that's settled then," Jack replied.

The rum carelessly sitting on a table beckoned him, and he took a healthy swig, staring thoughtfully at the approaching harbor.  Then he took several more.

//


	5. Drabble 5

_Authors note: I really should give up promising quicker updates, but this is my one last try.  It WILL be updated within the week.  I hope. I also hope that you enjoy this, and as always, that you review and let me know what you think.  Criticism is always welcomed._

//

To step or not to step, that was the question, and the answer wasn't anywhere in sight.  Not to step would be the best choice by far, logically.  Going back to the Pearl and drowning himself in rum until a sufficient distance between them and this accursed place had been reached made perfect sense.

Jack frowned as he stood on the steps, one foot on the Pearl and the other just above soil.

But see, stepping had its merits too.  Fresh rum, for one.  No arguing with that.  The crew needed supplies, and company was plentiful.  And there, towering over the small town, the governor's mansi–

But this was ridiculous.

There was no reason good reason for him to step off the trusted ship and onto the dock.  No reason to put himself and the crew in danger of being caught only weeks after escaping.  No bloody reason whatsoever.

Jack sighed and stepped down.

//


	6. Drabble 6

_Authors note: Thanks to everyone that left comments.  About the length and long updating time, I can only say one thing.  The stupid thing just won't write any faster, and the stupid drabbles just insist on being short.  I can hold on to them until I've got a few done and then post…if that's what you'd like, just let me know.  So, yeah, I apologize for the shortness and slowness, but hope you enjoy all the same.  Also went back to the more poetic (hopefully) mode in this one and hope I achieved it.  And finally – we're getting somewhere._

//

Sometimes it feels like she's burning from the inside out with frozen flames.

Not often, of course.  Elizabeth Swann doesn't spend hours analyzing her feelings and filing them into neat and labeled cabinets.  Wouldn't know what to call each one, or how to organize them, for a start.  But sometimes, when the sun's rays caress her skin and waves splash on the shore of Port Royal, she remembers a different beach.  Remembers white sand littered with broken glass reflecting little rainbow beams across the water.  Remembers, though heaven knows she tries not to, husky pirate song, carried by the breeze in a comforting melody of feeling.  

And then she_ burn_s.

It never lasts for long.  Smolders into warm sparks moments later, no matter how hard she tries to bring it back.  But somehow she knows, that it could stay forever.  Could become her, the very core of her being, if only-

There were no if only's.  There was only now, and what she could make of it.  It was time to grow up and let go of silly midnight dreams.  

Elizabeth Swann rose from her window _(peas in a pod, love)_ and drew down the curtain.

//


End file.
